BANGLADESH: Let Her Play

Growing up under strict control, Jannatul was denied the freedom to play, choose, or dream. Today, she's creating something different—not just for her daughter, but for every child in her neighborhood who deserves to dream freely.

“I could not change my own childhood, but I changed my daughter’s.”

I made myself a promise: if I ever had a daughter, she would get all the opportunities I was denied.

I belonged to an orthodox Muslim family. We followed the rules of Islam strictly, and even as children, we had to obey them. But I often had objections.

For example, our guardians forbade us from playing outside, especially with boys. Yet I wanted to play with my friends. As a girl, I had no freedom to make my own choices, and that disturbed me the most.

My father was a businessman and was always busy. He had no time to take care of our daily needs or look after our studies. So he relegated those responsibilities to my uncle, who managed everything from our education to our daily life, even deciding when we ate or slept.

My uncle was very strict. If we disobeyed him, we often faced physical violence. If he saw us playing in the nearby field, or if we failed to finish the lessons he gave us, he beat us severely. He even decided everything for us—from when we went to bed to what we ate, wore, and did each day. As a child, I tried to accept these things, but over time, they began to suffocate me.

When I was in class six, my mother took me to the market for Eid shopping—a special time before the Eid festival when families buy new clothes, shoes, and gifts to celebrate. I wanted to choose my own dress, but I had to take the one my uncle picked.

Throughout my school years, my uncle forbade me from joining study tours. I felt sad watching my friends go while I stayed behind.

When I was in class nine, students had to choose a division: Science, Arts, or Commerce. My dream was to study Science, but my uncle forced me into Arts, and I had no choice but to continue in that field.

I missed the chance to socialize outside school, because my uncle always drove me there and brought me straight back home. I often felt frustrated, and sometimes I complained to my father, but nothing ever changed.

When I think about my childhood, I find many things missing. For me, play is one of the children’s basic needs. Through play, they learn teamwork, social skills, and good manners. It also helps their mental and physical growth. The freedom to make choices allows children to become independent and improve problem-solving skills. This leaves a positive impact on their mental growth, especially at a stage when they want to make their own decisions.

When I was young, I often dreamed about how when I became a mother, I would make sure to give my daughter the opportunities I was denied.

My elder daughter was born in 2015, just after I finished my Higher Secondary Certificate (HSC) exams. I was only eighteen years old, too young to understand motherhood, but I was overjoyed to have a girl child. Since then, I have been trying to give her all the support she needs and asks for, as long as it’s good for her. I just want to ensure that she never feels the dissatisfaction I felt in my childhood.

With the help of my supportive husband, we converted a small space in our house into a playground for our daughter. Many girls and boys around our neighborhood play there too. We set up a badminton court where children of all ages and genders play together. The girls who are interested in sports feel especially valued here.

My elder daughter has been passionate about martial arts since she was five. When I was young, my family would never have given permission—especially not with boys training alongside me. I dream of watching my daughter compete internationally one day.

In our small city, there were no opportunities for my daughter to train in martial arts. She tried to learn from television and online programs, but to truly learn, she needed hands-on training.

We often go on tours around the city and sometimes visit the district stadium during holidays. One day, we saw a national-level Wushu (Chinese martial arts) player, Mr. Motahar, teaching martial arts to his son. I asked if he could teach my daughter, but he said it would be too costly.

So I suggested that he start a Wushu training center. I promised to help by recruiting students and promoting the center, and he finally agreed.

In December 2022, he opened Motahar Wushu Academy at the indoor stadium in our town of Magura, with only five students. My daughter was among them. Today, nearly one hundred players train there, girls alongside boys. The coach often thanks me for encouraging him to open the academy and for the support I gave him at the beginning.

Now, I feel proud. I could not change my own childhood, but I changed my daughter’s. I helped her dream grow, and I also helped a coach find his livelihood.

My message is simple: children deserve freedom and love, not violence. And girls, especially, should be free to make their own choices. Let them play. Let them choose. Let them become who they are meant to be.

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This story was published as part of World Pulse's Story Awards program. We believe every woman has a story to share, and that the world will be a better place when women are heard.